


Smoke and Mirrors

by FredGeorge123



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Autistic Quigley Quagmire, Based on a Tumblr Post, Ernest isn't paid enough, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Probably has Quiglet but not sure of yet, Quigley and Ernest are going to suffer, Quigley doesn't know what he's doing, Quigley knows what he's doing, The Author Regrets Everything, based on head canons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredGeorge123/pseuds/FredGeorge123
Summary: Quigley Quagmire remembered that fire. How could he not? It was the day his life changed and it was the first of many changes, for better or worse. He remembers how it caused his mother to take him to a secret passageway which lead to a glass room where he stayed for a few days and was about to leave when a mysterious man from his parents' past and Quigley's now current finds him.Quigley now has to face everything that he's ever taught crumble and he faces the most confusing as strange concept he never could understand; moral ambiguity.Based on an AU I talked about with @asoue-sideblog on Tumblr. Sucks. Don't read (Please read).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have read Quigley Quagmire, Cartographer which is a fic of mine then this will seem familiar. So as the next two chapters.

The word cartography deprives from the Greek word khartēs, which means ‘map’ and graphein, which mean ‘write’. Together they mean ‘writing a map’ or something similar. I do not know if this is right or why they changed to word ‘khartēs’ to ‘carto’ or ‘graphein’ to ‘graphy’. Cartography is the study and practice of making maps as you may know. A mix science, visuals, and method, cartography guides people through places they would be lost in without a map unless they have very great knowledge of the place.

A cartographer is someone who studies and/or makes maps. It is a road lesser taken, like Robert Frost said, because not many people would have tons of fun studying maps and then making them. They may prefer poetry like Isadora Quagmire, an exceedingly skilled young poet who specialised in couplets and often made them in even unsuitable situations where it is extremely unnecessary. Or just rhyme words in unsuitable situation where it is unnecessary and quite annoying especially if she is using your name to rhyme and your brother, who you would feel like is a traitor, is cheering on. Also since you have a name (which was an Irish surname that originally appeared in Gaelic as ‘O Coigligh, which may be derived from "coigeal," which means "unruly appearance"’ (A/N: <http://www.babynamewizard.com/baby-name/boy/quigley#node-name-sound-results)>) which your parents pulled out from a “let’s torture our child with a name” website and gives your siblings an imaginary, non-existent right to tease you mercilessly about it, this is extra annoying. Anyway, back to the topic. People may also prefer journalism like Duncan Quagmire, a curious young journalist with a keen eye who would spend more time thinking of the perfect headline of a story than writing it and, to get practice, would see something happen and make a dramatic pose and say in a dramatic voice a dramatic title about something that may not be so dramatic and this would make you think he should have joined the drama club instead especially when he’s annoying you by making ridiculous headlines about your name. And people thought he was a sweet and innocent cinnamon roll. Who names their first two children two respectable names in this day and age and then just gets a name from the top of their head for their third child? No-one! Or no-one should at least, as Mr and Mrs Quagmire have proven. People may also like novel-writing, researching, inventing, cooking, biting, reading, drawing, you get the point.

The Quagmires were rich but their parents never let that influence their personality. They still had to earn money and sometimes don’t have enough money to buy a candy bar and would cry tears of relief and joy when finding a pencil or pen on the floor. It wouldn’t even matter if the pencil is one and a half inches in length. But if the pen wasn’t working then the tears of sorrow will replace tears of joy as the one of them in the situation (usually Isadora. Duncan was too shy and Quigley was extremely resourceful) as they slowly crumple on to the floor and wait for something to happen so they can ignore. This made the rich kids who were snobby feel weird around rich kids with no pens. They usually did have pens and pencils because they had to write poems, news articles and maps. This also explained why they would run out of pens. Their parents encouraged their hobbies though.

The youngest of the triplets, Duncan’s mind was filled with things that could be put in two categories; detective stuff and journalism. He loved journalism and was hoping to open his own newspaper and chase for stories. He longed to find the perfect story and an intriguing head-line for it so people from all around would be itching to read. This was unlike most teenage boys but Duncan was unlike most teenage boys. He was quiet, thoughtful, logical and observant.

The only girl, Isadora was the oldest and was to the most implusive and extroverted, though not particularly. She wrote poems. Her poems were funny, interesting and likeable so everyone liked it when she shared them. She wasn’t exactly in the ‘in group’ but still wasn’t unpopular. She wanted to write poetry and all sorts so people with all kinds of tastes would appreciate her works, all different from the other, from the themes, to the structure, to the language devices to the wording. She always had the perfect comeback and pulled it off like a pro.

Quigley was the middle triplet. He liked to think that thirteen was a grown up age and sensible. Quigley was good at making decisions and resourceful. He also was diagnosed by Autism which he was told by his counselor made him quite a troublemaker and often landed him in detention and getting a lot scoldings. Quigky taught that was a horrible lesson to teach to Autistic kids. But Quigley didn't care. He wasn't as logical as Duncan but  he liked to think that he was quite observant and he didn’t give comebacks like Isadora but could say something that will silence the other person.

They looked very similar, though that was expected because they were triplets. They all had black hair. Duncan’s hair lay straighter than Quigley’s whose hair was pretty unruly and Isadora’s hair was just like Duncan’s but slightly below her shoulders. They all had the same eye shape and long eyelashes like their mum but their dark eyes were green like their dad’s. They had beige skin each had a notebook (though Quigley preferred to call it a commonplace book). Duncan’s was dark green (“Like my eyes which will see many reports hand-written by me,” he said proudly), Isadora’s pitch black (“An empty dark world to be given light by the magnificence and light of poetry written by me!” Isadora said dramatically) and Quigley’s was purple (“It’s a nice shade of violet…?” Quigley said because his siblings wanted him to say something similar, “Very lovely indeed…?” This made Duncan and Isadora laugh for weeks and say it every chance they got).

Their parents were often out leaving the children to themselves. This happened usually but Quigley knew his parents weren’t one of those who care about success and it was just their jobs. But Quigley was probably the one who disliked it most. He loved his parents but as soon  as the siblings were told enough, they left them home alone. Sure, it gave him time to work on his maps and his latest was his favourite. It was of the Mortmain Mountains which were these mountains as you probably realised from the name. He loved the outdoors and adventures more than anyone their age could ever, and more than his siblings. Not that they too much. Sure it gave them inspiration and topics to write about but they didn’t care too much but nature and landscapes and landform and geography and map and being a cartographer… Quigley did though. It was his life.

“Duncan, Isadora, Quigley! We’re home!” A voice called. That was his dad. He had black hair which was pretty tame like Isadora and Duncan while his mum’s black hair was messy like Quigley. They were of medium height and were athletic.

“Hey, mum! Hey, dad!” they all chorused all that once which would have been creepy and strange due to three very similar voices saying the same thing and also looked almost the same. You’d think they acted the same and had the same personality. Then you’d be wrong and all three of the Quagmire triplets would stare at you judgingly because you were so wrong.  
   
Duncan had made dinner tonight. Pasta. Isadora made dessert. She was good at desserts as much as she was bad at dinners and desserts which needed stoves. Then Duncan would help with the stoves. Quigley was also good at cooking though not as much as the other two.

So they ate dinner and were sent to their rooms. They each had separate rooms. Duncan had decorated his room with a huge board for which he joined events together which he thought might have something to do with each other and had many books. Quigley didn't particularly like all books, unlike Duncan and Isadora. Some books, sure. But all? Nope. In fact, he disliked History particularly. Sure, he'd read anything that interested him. But only anything that had to do with him would be interesting. Not Ancient Eygpt or WWI. Recent murders around his area? Yes.

Isadora had posters of writer cheat sheets and many books. Poetry books and fiction books were one her selves. Quigley got bored by fiction. Apart from poetry, Isadora liked fanfiction particularly. Sometimes Duncan would join her. Not Quigley though. You like what you like and he'll like what he likes.

And his room had maps and geography books and maps and a huge globe. And stationary. He liked stationary more than the other two which was saying something.

Anyway, so they'd fall asleep and wake up in the morning so they could go to school. And hang out with each other and come home on the bus and find their parents not at home. Then they'd sit there and do stuff until their parents came home. Then their parents would come home and they'd have dinner. Then they'd be sent to bed.

And that was how everyday went… Until the fire.


	2. The First Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Examining maps  
> Shattered glasses  
> People shouting  
> Smoke and ashes
> 
> Scared and pale faces  
> Secrets and mirrors  
> Fire everywhere  
> Thick ice uncut by scissors
> 
> Tunnels, a secret passageway  
> Darkness, fear, what a terrible day

Examining can mean quite a few things. But in the context of the Quagmires at the moment, it means “to inspect a person or a thing carefully in detail to discover something about them whether it is their nature, condition, motive, or any sort of characteristics of them”. It is a great thing if you have interest and can figure it out. It could be done for fun, for tests or even in very dire circumstances or in a situation where it is important, valuable or helpful to do. In the Quagmires case at this moment, they were doing it for fun.

 

Duncan was examining a bunch of old newspaper clippings. Some of them were written recently like “MANSION BURNED DOWN! CHILDREN BECOME ORPHANS” or “AN EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW ON THE MOST IN! ESME SQUALOR REVEALS TIPS TO A FABULOUS LIFE!” Duncan didn’t find much interest in those ones, the first because it was very bad-written and the second because it wasn’t exciting but since it was the Daily Punctilio what could you expect? Though he did feel terribly sorry for the children in the first. He couldn’t imagine a fire burning down their mansion and his parents…Duncan shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about it. He hated the Daily Punctilio. It gave journalists a bad name. It usually was filled with lies and misconceptions. "The Daily Punctilio" is an incredulous misnomer which would make you unsure to laugh or cry. "Punctilious" means "showing great attention to detail or correct behaviour" which is nothing like the actual newspaper. He would hopefully open his own newspaper and write actual stories. Maybe Isadora might add a few of her poems. He couldn’t see how Quigley could put maps but maybe he could write about places he’s been too because he liked adventures. Duncan didn’t know. He used to read the reports and rewrite them to become better but he gave up after a report on “ESCAPED MURDERER OR MISUNDERSTOOD SUPER-MODEL RUMOURED TO BE DEAD AND IN REALITY IS JUST TRYING TO RESTORE NAME?” which made Duncan go through a box of tissues from just reading the title. He ended up not finishing it after Geraldine Julienne used her first point as that they both had a love of diamonds. The other reports were by famous journalists like and were a hundred times more pleasing and satisfying than the former.

 

Isadora was examining some poems. She had many books poetry and famous poets and poetry by famous poets. She loved poems of Robert Frost and his simple yet efficient structure to Edgar Allan Poe and his tragic and unhappy themes to even ones by Dr Seuss with non-existing words and language features. Her favourites were translated poems which were even better than a lot of those from the English language. She had written a couplet about it.

 

“From far and wide and wide and far/foreign poems, for me, the best they are!” Isadora suddenly announced. The other two were sued to it. It was one of Isadora’s idiosyncrasies like how she rhymed words at dinner even if the word was your name and how Duncan would suddenly make up headlines for every little thing and how Quigley would memorise places in spatial detail and so would explain every little landform in a lot of detail and point out every single direction. All more annoying than the other but after knowing each other for so long, ever since birth, and putting up with it every day, you could easily ignore it and be unfazed by it. Apart for the last one. Quigley’s lectures were the worst and Duncan and Isadora would rather-

 

“-eat cabbages stuffed with stuffing of broccoli, chicken talons and snot/than listen to Quigley’s lectures on landforms, landscapes, directions, architectures and what not!” Isadora suddenly shouted making Duncan agree immensely and state that. Quigley glared at them but Duncan only chuckled and ruffled Quigley's hair so it looked even more messy than it was before. 

 

He'd show them. He'll jump off the shed and do a flip which will cause Duncan a heart attack. But Isadora was hard. So hedh think about it while making dinner.

 

Quigley then wen into the kitchen. He then tried to flatten his hair as much as possible. Which was a hassle and worth it. He prayed that his siblings wouldn’t mess it up again. They stopped once they realised it was dinner. For dinner they had vegetarian pasta. Duncan was a vegetarian. He didn’t eat any meat especiakky lamb because they went to the far often and ever since the first time they went, which was when the siblings were eight so this was almost six years ago, Duncan fell in love with lambs and cried when even thinking about eating one. Isadora hated the taste of all meat. Quigley found it extremely unnecessary to eat things that were once living. They also never ever put any sort of alcohol in their mouths because each of them were extremely terrified that they would get drunk after seeing “Top 1000 Darkest Accidents and Disasters of People who got Drunk and their Terrifying Fates”. They got nightmares for months after that. And they watched it two years ago. Thinking about it made them react in very unpleasant ways.

 

Quigley prepared dinner and called the other two. It was their choice if they wanted to come or not. Luckily they came because there were two options if he didn’t; One, he’d waste their breath and energy calling them and then going after them. Or two, he’d leave them which would make them mad that Quigley didn’t call them. So it was Hobson’s choice. A lose-lose with one lose being worse than the other lose. One the lesser of two evils. Dalla padella alla brace. Which meant ‘out of the frying pan, into the fire’ in Italian. This meant to move or get from an already bad situation to a worse one; end up in a worse state when trying escape from a bad or problematic one. It was an idiom. Isadora liked idioms more than he did. Poets… Some just as bad as some journalists. At least a Hobson’s choice wasn’t as bad as a Sophie’s choice.

 

Duncan and Isadora came and then they froze with wide eyes which made Quigley concerned.

 

“It can’t be…” Isadora gasped and put a hand over her open mouth.

 

Duncan stared with wide eyes and stepped back. Now Quigley was really concerned and also feeling awkward since he was the only one in the room who had no idea what was going on. He tiled his head confused.

 

“Izzie? Duncan? What are you guys talking about?”

 

“Is that a hallucination…?” he whispered.

 

“It must be…” Quigley was worried. Were his siblings okay? He looked around. Nothing seemed wrong. Maybe they were actually seeing hallucinations. The same hallucinations which was weird but they seemed as if actually in shock. Quigley knew that if someone was seeing hallucinations than that did not mean they were well in the slightest.

 

“Guys, are you okay?” he asked, his tone worried. What should he do? What should he do?

 

“Quigley, is you hair actually a little flat?” Duncan whispered in mock shock. This made Quigley lose all his concern and narrow his eyes. He was not amused. He should have known there was a punch line. And he should have known he was the punch line. Ha, ha, ha.

 

Quigley pressed his lip into a thin line and the pouted angrily. He narrowed his eyes.

 

“You guys suck. You guys extremely, immensely suck,” he said, annoyed and crossed his arms.

 

The two laughed their heads off.  _Laugh, stupid siblings laugh_ , Quigley cursed them.

 

“What’s for dinner?” Duncan asked. Quigley was reluctant to give dinner to them and would rather shove it in their faces but then thought against it. He dragged his feet to the pot and put it on the table, where Isadora and Duncan helped themselves. They didn’t deserve his pasta or any of his dishes.

 

“I once read about a journalist,” Duncan said, “who was reporting on a war and was imprisoned by the enemy for three years. Each morning, she looked out her cell window and thought she saw her grandparents coming to rescue her. But they weren’t really there. It was a hallucination.”

 

“I remember reading about a poet,” Isadora said, “who would see six lovely maidens in his kitchen on Tuesday nights, but his kitchen was really empty. It was a phantasm.”

 

“How interesting,” Quigley said, dryly. 

 

“Aw… Come one, Quigy,” Isadora poked his cheek and turned it up. Quigley misses that time he and Duncan ganged up and stole Isadora’s one millionth and most recent book of poems, which she said were her best, and ran all around the house with her chasing for her poems. Then they hid every single poem in very good hiding places. It took a month for Isadora to find them. That may not have been one of their best ideas because Isadora was mad. Scary mad. And she ended up… being very, very scary.

 

"I'm not talking to both of you," Quigley said.

 

“Aw… Quigy!” Duncan grinned. Then again, Quigley also missed that time he and Isadora ganged up and ran with Duncan’s typewriter all around the house which was harder than carrying Isadora’s poems and also Duncan was stronger and faster than them. But Quigley knew the house like the back of his hand so was able to last quite a while and Isadora was very good at fooling Duncan around the house. Then they both were able to catch their breath whenever they switched so Duncan ended up being tired. This also wasn’t one of their best ideas because Duncan was mad. Scary mad. And he ended up… being very, very scary.

 

Duncan reached for Quigley’s hair but Quigley took a step back. “No way. I spend so much time and put in so much effort to make it this flat. There is no way anybody is going to touch this.”

 

“Hi, Duncan, Isadora, Quigley,” said their mum smiling.

 

“Hi mum!” then they said “Hi dad!” since their dad came in right after.

 

“How are you all?” Mrs Quagmire smiled and ruffled Quigley’s hair.

 

That was the last time Quigley would put in so much effort in his hair. His hair didn’t remain tame for an entire hour. Duncan and Isadora started laughing.

 

“You were saying, Quigley?” Isadora teased while Duncan banged his head on the table for different reasons than one bangs their head on the table. Quigley should have been the one banging his head one the table.

 

Their parents looked confused and Quigley shook his head. They looked at each other and shrugged, perplexed.

 

“I hate both of you. You’re both very, very, very, very, very, very mean. If a fire happened right now then and I died then you both would miss me, thank you,” Quigley stuck his tongue out.

 

“Well, we have news for you children. We've got a surprise for you!” Mrs Quagmire said.

 

This caught Quigley’s attention. “Really?!” he asked, eyes widened. Duncan and Isadora looked curious as well.

 

“We should be able to go there in a week,” their father said.

 

“Is this something to do with another of your missions or whatever you do?” Duncan asked.

 

“Well… yes,” Mr Quagmire said.

 

“Why take us this time though? You always leave us at home,” Isadora questioned.

 

They had a point. The three triplets looked at the parents in anticipation.

 

“Never mind,” their mother said, quickly, a bit too quickly. Were their parents hiding something? Quigley felt they did. His mother was looking a little nervous to be honest and that was a little fishy…

 

But the triplets didn’t question and went to their preferred rooms. Quigley went to their family's library. He loved it there and so did his siblings. It was very big.

 

“What map should I see…?” Quigley said to no one in particular or to himself. He didn’t know and forgot he said it once immersed in looking for a new map. He was studying the Mortmain Mountains but he had been for quite a well and sice they would be going there then it would be better to see another on.

 

Quigley’s hand landed on a big brown book. The Salty Sea. Nope. He put it back. The Fragrant Fields. Nope.

 

“What’s this? The Various Foreshadowed Deeds: Secrets of the Volunteers…” It seemed interesting and important. Quigley skimmed through it and then threw it across his shoulder, dab smack onto the table. “It seems like a boring book about a buchof thousand year old criminals! What a let-down! Probably was some fictional novel Izzie would prefer” Quigley shook his head looking for another book with maps. Little did Quigley though that that book was very much not just some fictional novel but was something that would have been very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands and Quigley would have seen everything in a new light if he read it. But he didn’t and years later, Quigley would wonder what would have happened if he actually read that book and if it would have helped them and avoid them so much trouble. And it would have. But it was too late then. And all that Quigley could think was at least the seven, including him, had survived although that didn’t help the guilt.

 

Quigley in this book had finally decided on studying a map of the Finite Forest. If it was the Infinite Forest then, although it wouldn’t be an alliteration anymore (and this was an alliteration Quigley noted), Quigley could discover the forest more. He did believe there were some things better left alone, parts of the Earth left unexplored and parts outside the Earth left unexplored, although he didn’t believe in secrets left unknown, not right now anyway, but the sometimes places were good to explore. Like the imaginary Infinite Forest, as far as Quigley imagined it.

 

The Finite Forest, not the alliteration-less Infinite Forest, was a forest which was finite as Quigley, and probably you, knew after hearing the name. It was quite interesting and people had way more fun destroying forests like the Amazon so they didn’t have any interest in the Finite, not infinite like the imaginary Infinite Forest, forest so it would be a nice place to sit around at maybe a picnic with close friends and family or maybe sit alone with calm nature and draw maps…

 

CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!

 

Quigley dropped his book and his eyes widened. What was that? He had a feeling in his stomach that this wasn’t just some normal accident which would be fine tomorrow… He looked around and saw the windows shattering. Well-made designs on the windows shattered. Structured windows shattering. Quigley’s eyes widened as he looked around. What was going on?!

 

He suddenly heard shouting and lots of it. Wait, that was his parents! He quickly got up, shaking and hunched his shoulders making himself shrink. He didn’t know if he should leave… Maybe he should…

 

Luckily his mum suddenly ran in. Relief flooded into him, from seeing a familiar face as his face got back some of its colour but not much. There still remained the fact that there was something going on. And from the look on his mum’s face, it was probably worse than he thought.

 

“Mum, what’s going on?!” Quigley asked, terrified.

 

“Listen, darling. I don’t want you to panic but there’s a fire. I’m not going to sugar-coat this. It’s bad. So we have got to hurry up and run,” she said softly but urgently. She didn’t wait for him to answer and grabbed his hand. They ran. Quigley reacted a few seconds later.

 

“What about Duncan and Isadora?! And dad?!” Quigley asked, getting more and more scared by the moment. He was extremely worried for them and prayed that they were safe and okay. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was not going to end up well and he hated the feeling and thought.

 

“We’ll get them. Your father is on it. I need to get you to safety,” his mother said while they ra down the stairs.

 

 

Quigley didn’t say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to. And What he saw next made him even more speechless.

 

Their entire main hall was filled with smoke. Dark, dull yet ferocious clouds of smoke filling up the room and then the rest of house.  And they filled Quigley’s lungs. He coughed violently as the smoke burned his eyes. They tried to run to the front door but the smoke was too thick.

 

His mother muttered.

 

She ran back upstairs which confused Quigley.

 

“Mum. What are you-?”

 

“Shh…. Quiet, darling. Just trust me and do as I say. Everything is going to be okay,” she reassured him but Quigley knew everything was definitely not okay and it was not going to be okay anytime soon. All he could do is pray that Isadora, Duncan and their dad were okay. Because if they weren’t… Quigley didn’t want to think of it.

 

He then realised they were back in the library. This confused Quigley immensely. What was his mum doing? Why were the back at the library? How would they be safe here? Why-?

 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Quigley,” his mum said reading his mind, “But dismiss them for now and do what I say”

 

She lifted a corner of the rug. Despite his worry and fear, Quigley was curious at his mum’s actions especially due to the situation. She then revealed a secret door underneath and Quigley’s mouth dropped open. He thought he knew the house like the back of his hand but…

 

His mum opened the door startling Quigley out from his thoughts. How well did he actually know his parents? Did this have to do with their mysterious, secretive jobs which they said weren’t mysterious and secretive but actually were mysterious and secretive and even a blind man could see they were mysterious and secretive.

 

Quigley looked back at the smoke which was now filling the library. Well, there went every single one of their belongings. Except Quigley’s commonplace book and grey sweater he was wearing identical to Isadora’s and Duncan’s one which they were wearing. Did they save their notebooks? They kept theirs very close to them all the time so they should have theirs. Unless- Quigley couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought.

 

He jumped out of his thoughts when his mother started shouting his name and shaking him.

 

“Wha-?!”

 

“Quigley, listen!” her voice was extremely urgent and panicked, “Go down there and wait below. I’m going to fetch your siblings. I’ll come back with them and your father.” She kissed his forehead and hugged him. “It’s going to be okay Quigley. Be brave like you always are.” With that she left Quigley, who was tempted to follow but knew he would only be more trouble so he went in and prayed that it was the right thing to do.

 

It was extremely dark in there and Quigley was extremely scared. He was shaking like crazy and he only just realised the tears running down his cheeks. He wished he had said something to his mum because that might have been the last time he saw her. He cursed himself for it. His heart was beating like crazy and he curled into a ball against a wall. He felt so desperate and distressed. This was the first of his many series unfortunate events but that didn’t come in his mind he couldn’t think of anything but the fear he was feeling.

 

“I hope their okay,” he said to no one in particular or to himself. He didn’t know and forgot he said it once he was back in his thoughts. His voice was rough and wobbling. He felt like he was going to start crying again.  _Be brave_ , his mother had said. But he didn’t feel the slightest bit brave. He tried to calm down, control himself and get himself together but his progress when down the screams of his siblings, the house falling to pieces and the sound of frantic footsteps filled his ears. He sighed at least his siblings were alive. Hopefully his mum would be down soon with his siblings and father saying that it’ll be okay even though it obviously wasn’t going to be.

 

If he could travel back in time to the moment his mother showed him the secret passageway under the library where he was right now, Quigley would ask her why she was keeping these secrets. But it was too late. Maybe he’d ask her once she’d come back.

 

If she’d come back.

 

“Looks like I’m not going to that place, where ever it is, any time soon,” Quigley laughed bitterly as crying blurred his vision. He buried his face in his knees and waited.


	3. The Dreadful Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quagmire twins. Brother dead. Quint. Prufrock Preparatory School. Should be happy because of money.  
> The Daily Punctilio have never sucked so much as now.

Time is a curious thing. It is specific and never changes. At least not usually. An hour can feel as long as a few day, while a week could feel like a day, and a day could feel like a fortnight. If time goes fast for you then it is better unless it’s the weekend or you’re having a good dime. Unfortunately that’s when time usually goes fast. And if you want something to be over then time goes slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow. Or maybe that was an exaggeration. Nevertheless, time does go slow when you want it to do the opposite. It’s like a rebellious teen or worse. And that’s saying something because you probably would not want to have a rebellious teen. As said before, time goes slow when you want to it to go fast and such as the case of Quigley Quagmire. He felt like it had been weeks and days since his mother left him alone with only her last words to him. ‘Be brave like you always are’. When had he been brave? He wasn’t brave and he couldn’t be brave. He wasn’t the slightest brave. He was extremely scared. His heart had stopped beating as much but he still felt sick and his face was pale. He had been crying. How was that brave? He just saved himself and his mother went to actually save his siblings and help his father. He would have just got in trouble.  He hoped they were safe. He couldn’t bear it if… if… He couldn’t finish the sentence.

 

There is another peculiar thing about time. You could feel like it had been so long and yet time went fast. It’s odd and incomprehensible. Again, such was the case of Quigley Quagmire and how long he felt it had been since his mother had gone.

 

‘Be brave’. Quigley had to try to be brave. And he would start by not just sitting around in this secret room he never knew about. He knew time had probably felt longer than it was but he had fallen asleep for what seemed like quite a while and was extremely hungry. He had eaten a lot right before the fire which his mother might have- He shook his head. Now was not the time to sit ducks and keep thinking about the what-ifs and not do anything. He stood up. He didn’t get hungry easily, that was Duncan, who might- He pinched himself.  _Focus Quigley_ , he scolded himself, angrily. So it might have been quite a while. So he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to be rescued anytime soon.

 

Oh god… What if his mother had… While trying to save his siblings and help his father and they might have… And she could have saved herself or gotten out but because she saved Quigley and went back for his siblings she…

 

He shook his head. No. He could not think like this. If his mum had… you know… then he had to make sure she didn’t just… yeah… in vain. She did not save Quigley for him to weep about it like wait like one of the princesses in the stories that their parents used to tell him and Duncan. Isadora had hated stories like Sleeping Beauty and Snow White and Cinderella but Quigley and Duncan liked to them when they were younger. It was the happy endings that got to him. Then they learnt the real version and they didn’t like them as much. But back to the point. He was going to get out.

 

The fire had seemed to die down and if it was still going than he could go back down. So what he did was open the secret door.

 

Well, he tried to but it wouldn’t budge.

 

“Why won’t this… stupid… door… open?!” Quigley asked, frustrated. He clenched his fists and kept banging and pushing and shoving and he tried to kick it although he wasn’t very successful in the last one. He wasn’t successful in any but for the last one his fee didn’t even reach the door. He glared at it although it was hard to see the door through the dark. He was sure the door couldn’t see him either unless door could see better in the door as if they had some kind of cat-like night vision which he doubted.

 

He decided to use his logic and came to the very obvious conclusion which he should have realised earlier; something had fallen on the door. So it was useless. 

 

So then he had to commence Plan C; try to feel around the room and make something out of it. He wondered how big the room was. He touched the wall and quite feeling his way. He felt wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall, and wall…. And wall. How long this this wall go for?!  
“Quigley, you dumb idiot,” he said to himself or no one in particular. He didn’t know. “This is some sort of passageway.” Then he realised what he had just said to himself. A passage way? Why would his parents have a passageway? His parents were getting mysterious and mysterious. What were they actually doing once they got out of their home leaving Isadora, Duncan and him? What or who had caused the fire? What other secrets were their parents keeping from them? Would he be able to ask them again? He was scared to know the question to the last in case it was the answer he did not want to hear.

 

Time went slow and slow. The peculiarity of time. And it didn’t help Quigley in slightest.

 

Where could this secret, mysterious and dark passageway go to? He was in the dark in the dark. And it was not nice to be in the dark in dark or being in the dark or being in the dark. He felt so scared. So, so, so scared. He didn’t want to be so scared.

 

Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. That was the word that described him being to that tunnel. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions. Scared. Darkness. Mystery. Secrets. Worry. Fear. Anticipation. Questions.

 

And then relief and a little joy like the one he felt when he saw his mother after feeling scared from the shattered glass. A little joy although it was quite insignificant. He felt the end of the passage way. And there was another secret door. Things kept getting more mysterious and baffling as the minutes pasted. Seconds, to be honest.

 

And he reached for the doorknob. He reached for the doorknob hoping that was what his mother wanted him to do if she didn’t come back. And he twisted the doorknob and then opened it, bnot fully but once slightly. And light. Beautiful, amazing, beloved, perfect light. After being in the dark so long his eyes hurt from the light but it was a welcome sight. Ha, Isadora wasn’t the only knew who could make a couplet. Although hers were far superior because she is an amazing poet. Or was an amazing poet, horrible, dark voice said so quickly it took a few moments for what it said to actually hit Quigley. His eyes widened at the thought. It was the first time the thought was completed and he froze by it. He couldn’t move, paralysed. His breathing became irregular and he didn’t need a mirror to know his face was etched with horror. He felt worse on the inside than outside and his heart started beating fast. All he could comprehend was that thought. He didn’t realise his hand dropped the doorknob. He didn’t realise his hand reach to his hair. He didn’t realise them running through his hair. He didn’t realise them clutching his hair tightly. He didn’t realise the tears started dripping down his cheeks from his wide open, unblinking eyes. He didn’t realise him sinking to his knees. His didn’t realise him sitting down. He didn’t realise his eyes staring at the door in front of him. He didn’t realise the thought trying to come into his mind, the thought that one he went through that door, he would enter a new world and a new life.

 

He only realised that he did not doubt the slightest that his family was dead.

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

Quigley woke up with a start. Huh… he had fallen asleep?

 

“I just had the worst nightmare-” he started and shook his head in relief but then saw the door. That secret door. That secret door his parents kept secret from him. The secret door his parents kept secret from him and was connected to their house’s secret door. The secret door his parents kept secret from him and was connected to their house’s secret door by a long, dark, secret tunnel. The secret door his parents kept secret from him and was connected to their house’s secret door by a long, dark, secret tunnel which their parents also kept secret from him. He couldn’t believe it.

 

Oh, was he hungry. He decided he had wasted enough time. His mother would scold him for wasting so much time. And she had a right to. He kept keeping this off. Well, there was nothing to lose and might be something to gain. He was going to do it. And with that, he swung the door open. He swung the door open and it revealed…

 

…an enormous room? Okay, that wasn’t the surprising part. The surprising part was that it was entirely made out of glass. And entire meant entire. Literally. Not just an exaggeration.  _It had bright, clear glass walls and a high glass ceiling that rose up to a_ _point like the inside of a cathedral. Outside the walls was a bright green field of grasses and shrubs which was of course perfectly visible through the transparent walls, so standing in the room was like being inside and outside at the same time_ **(copied from the Reptile Room).**  In their fire this room would have no chance and whoever was I would have gotten cut by the cuts, Quigley thought and bitterly laughed. Wow, was he bipolar and didn’t even know it! One second he’s scared, then he’s sad, then he’s guilty and then he’s laughing. Way to go, Quigley. Quigley rolled his eyes at poking fun at himself.

 

The room was full of empty cages. And by full, he meant full. Almost literally.  Not entirely full but pretty full. Kind of an exaggeration. But not a Duncan’s headline level exaggerations. Quigley felt his heart sink and shook his head. There once must have some sort of animals kept here. By the glass cages he was betting they were reptiles. The house of a herpetologist? Why did their parents have their house joint to a house of a herpetologist? He was sure they weren’t herpetologists so…

 

A herpetologist is someone who studies herpetology which is the study of amphibians and reptiles. Some people prefer snakes while others prefer more milder and appealing branches of zoology, also known as animal biology, who aren’t as creepy, slimy or dangerous, like some are, like mammals, birds and fish, although the last one is less appealing to some than others like herpetology is less appealing then some to others. Duncan, Isadora and Quigley were all lovers of animals but Isadora like birds which Duncan and Quigley didn’t. At all.

 

Quigley walked for a while looking at the piles of cages shattered around. He stared at them and the glass walls everywhere and was so attentive to them that he didn’t realise that at the end of the rows and rows of cages, were rows and rows of bookshelves, each one stuffed with books of different sizes and shapes, with a cluster of tables, chairs, and reading lamps in one corner (copied from Reptile Room). Quigley was immediately reminded of their library which he decided to try to keep his mind on instead of- He remembered the many books on geography he had yet to read and felt saddened by it.

 

He went to the tables, chairs and reading lamps in one corner and observed them carefully as if he was going to get something out of them. He did, to his surprise, one of the chairs seemed to be dirtied by some substances that smelled horrible. Quigley didn’t know if he wanted to find out though. So he left the room and opened the big door that let him go to the other room of the house. He took one final glance at the room and left the room.

 

-

 

-

 

-

 

Quigley had stayed a couple of days in the home of the absent herpetologist. It was weird. It seemed like he did live there so Quigley assumed he might be out on a business trip or something. That was a plausible, logical explanation but that didn’t mean Quigley had to like it. He felt scared at every sound and could scarcely fall asleep at night. Quigley trusted his parents’ judgement and knew that they wouldn’t just attach a hidden door to some evil person’s house. Well, he hoped they wouldn’t.

 

The kitchen was filled with food so Quigley was able to satisfy his hunger. And he slept at the bottom of the stairs so he could he if anybody came. He felt like Goldilocks but a boy with black hair and he wasn’t just twiddling around into a stranger’s home and had an acceptable reason.

 

He went down to the room of the herpetologist kept all those empty cages but he was too scared and couldn’t even bring himself to touch those books. ‘Be brave like you always are’, hah, yeah right. He felt like a mouse in the cage of lions without any lions. He felt so paranoid. Too paranoid. But could you blame him?

 

Quigley decided to walk around the house a little more. He didn’t do much exploring before due to being scared but now he had to slowly gather up courage. He was alone. It was one for all but one alone. So he had to at least be brave to venture in an empty house.

 

He kept telling himself to be brave but just felt scared. Nevertheless, he did do some exploring. He went up the stairs and around the hall. Then he came back down. Then he told himself not be such a scaredy-cat and to go back up and look inside the rooms. So he did. He felt like he was in a horror movie. And then he found the rooms to be normal-looking and empty which was a relief.

 

“See, Quigley. Nothing to be scared of,” he reassured himself slightly smiling, “People have been through way worse.”

 

He went back downstairs and suddenly saw something that wasn’t there before; a newspaper. Well, a bunch of newspapers were there before but the read all of them and put them neatly in a pile and away. He walked up to the newspaper and his heart stopped. Duncan was in love with journalism so he would be more likely to be immersed in one but Quigley was immersed in this one more than Duncan had ever been in any. And this was the Daily Punctilio so…

 

“MANSION BURNED DOWN! CHILDREN BECOME ORPHANS” was the head-line. And the front picture was of a house; their house. Or to be specific, the ruins of their house. And next to it were a picture of;

 

“Izzie… Duncan…” They were safe. They were alive. In their photo they both looked messy, unhappy, scared and immensely sad and Quigley’s heart sunk by it. But they were safe and unharmed. For now.

 

But… ‘Children’ become orphans’… That could only one thing. One very obvious and specific yet terrifying thing. It couldn’t be true. The Daily Punctilio always posted lies and misconceptions, in Duncan’s words, so maybe they just got the fact wrong. That’s probably it.

 

He scanned through the newspaper articles to find anything that caught his eyes. And a couple of things did.

 

“-along with both their parents, the Quagmire twins’ brother, Quint has also perished. The Quagmire twins have been sent to Prufrock Preparatory School. Their late parents’ estate is the city’s sixth most important financial advisor, Esme Squalor. Let’s hope them the best of luck. They have an entire fortune and are going to a rich school. That should make them happy.”

 

Quagmire twins. Brother dead. Quint. Prufrock Preparatory School. Should be happy because of money.

 

The Daily Punctilio have never sucked so much as now.

 

Quagmire twins. Twins. Quagmires who are twins. Two Quagmires. Quigley knew how his siblings would have reacted. He knew his siblings well. They had lived with each since birth. They had a close bond although they were always fighting and ganging up on one another. They would have felt that Quigley’s existence was erased because he was ‘dead’. And Quigley knew it had. They would react that way he knew it. And they would ask to be called the Quagmire triplets. He knew it because he would have reacted in the same way. And this would have hurt him.

 

Brother dead. This was a detail which confused Quigley because he most certainly was not dead. But then again, in their view, there was nowhere to escape from the fire and there was no Quigley. The Daily Punctilio posted a lot of lies but this statement was extremely believable and might be seen as common sense even though it had holes to the statement.

 

Quint. Quigley rolled his eyes at that. Duncan would have popped a vein and the mistake. He was so right. The Daily Punctilio was the worst newspaper in existence.

 

Prufrock Preparatory. His siblings were at a school called Prufrock Preparatory. Prufrock Preparatory.

 

And the Punctilio said they should be happy sue to wealth. As if. Money couldn’t have brought Quigley back from the ‘dead’. As if money could bring back their effort in all their poems and reports. As if money could bring back their prized and sentimental possessions. As if money could bring back…

 

Their parents…

 

Quigley’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened looking on the floor. He knew deep inside this heart that the Punctilio was not wrong about this fact. He knew there was a possibility but there was a feeling in his gut that that was false hope. He couldn’t think about it though. Anyway optimism only brought disappointment in Quigley’s experience. Like when he was optimistic that their cat would make it but... Like when he was optimistic his parents had brought him that book he really wanted and asked for weeks but they had forgot… Like when he was optimistic he could be brave enough to venture through the house but it took a couple of days for him to achieve that…

 

Was Quigley right? It some people’s eyes, no. In others, yes. He wasn’t wrong though.

 

Quigley wrapped his arms around his shoulder, and drooped. He sat on the floor and hesitated when he stroked his hair. He hesitated when he fidgeted. He hesitated when he decided a place to stare at. He hesitated when he widened his eyes. He hesitated when trying to think about his parents. So he didn’t think about his parents. And he didn’t hesitate when he forced himself not to cry. And he did not hesitate when he decided to get up. And he did not hesitate when deciding to actually do something for once.

 

He knew he needed to tell his siblings he was alive. If Duncan had ‘died’ or Isadora had ‘died’ and then came back and it was found out that they weren’t ‘dead’ then things would be so much better. So first and foremost, it was time to find the Quagmire triplets (excluding him of course).

 

He quickly went to the glass room, which was what he called it. He also called it the room with a secret door. And the glass room with a secret door. This was where the herpetologist’s library was.

 

“Okay, Quigley. There is an atlas here and there’s this totebag you found. As soon as you find the school that your siblings are at, you can leave straight away. Imagine how they must be feeling. All scared alone with people who act like nothing has happened. Hopefully they’ll be kind to them, otherwise I’ll kill them. Nobody should be mean to everyone, especially alone kids who just lost their parents.” Quigley’s voice had not gone rough or rusty after being unused for a while because it was not unused for a while. He had talked to himself whenever he felt like talking. He felt really lonely without his siblings and- his siblings.

 

It took a while to find it. He was so determined to find his siblings so he didn’t get unfocused by the atlas itself and other places and their details. But due to having so many details, he got lost and could find the school. But in the end he was able to find it.

 

And so it was time to pack. He had already put a compass, pocket watch, telescope, some food, two water bottles, some pens, pencils, rulers, erasers, you know the basics. And a bunch of tools, a pocket knife, a flashlight, a camera. All stuff that could come in handy. And a couple of cookies and chocolate bars. It’s not like his siblings were going anywhere! He hoped the herpetologist wouldn’t feel like he was stealing. He hoped he wasn’t stealing. He needed to travel on the road and the school wasn’t extremely near. It was him against the world. Everything would come in handy. Except for the cookies and chocolate bars. But he hadn’t had any in a few days. And Duncan wasn’t the only one who liked food. Although Duncan liked food more than he did. He’ll give Duncan a chocolate bar.

 

“Okay, all set. Just need to put the atlas in here…” Quigley took it and put it inside they bag. Or was putting it before-

 

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” And Quigley’s heart shot out of his body.


	4. Ernest and Quigley meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ernest didn't know what he didn't expect to see. What he expected to see was a huge mansion with furniture and a bunch of books. He had put in on the list that a volunteer could be there. What he didn't put on any list, including his list of things he didn't expect to see, was seeing a young boy.

Ernest Denouement was on a mission. Apparently there were a lot of books with the late doctor Montgomery Montgomery. And because Ernest was one of the managers of a hotel ordered by the Dewey Decimsl System (puns) he was supposed to go.

Ernest didn't know what he didn't expect to see. What he expected to see was a huge mansion with furniture and a bunch of books. He had put in on the list that a volunteer could be there. What he didn't put on any list, including his list of things he didn't expect to see, was seeing a young boy.

Now, it was common to have apprentices who were the boy's age and even younger. It was common to have them do tiny missions. It was uncommon to have them come along missions but not rare. It was extremely rare to send them alone to a mansion of a dead guy without anyone.

So either there was another volunteer or this boy was here all alone. And Ernest suspected the second. He took out his dagger and kept it close. But not too close that the boy could see. Because he didn't want to frighten him. That would be mean even if he were from the opposing side. But if he wasn't anywhere then that would be very awkward.

Ernest stood their for quite a while trying to figure out what to do o what to say. He could talk him on the shoulder but seeing a strange man so close would scare the boy. It'll also be easier to see his knife. Ernest took a deep breath.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. He nailed it.

The boy jumped a foot into the hair and froze. He slowly turned around to face Ernest. His eyes were wide and he looked surprised. But not scared. He most certainly did not look scared.

“I know this looks bad but I swear I’m not stealing! Except for the biscuits and the chocolate bars, all the stuff I have while come in handy! You see- Wait, are you the herpetologist who lives here?” the boy rambled on. Ernest was confused. Was this boy all alone? Or was it a trick? The older man kept his dagger close just in case.

He studied the boy. He had extremely messy black hair with a long fringe and sticking everywhere terribly and he had dark green eyes. The boy was in a bad state. He looked like he just escaped from a... fire. Fantastic. Wonderful. Just what Ernest needed. He had a pretty good guess of what was going on. But the dagger was in place. Also Ernest couldn't shake off the feeling he had seen this kid somewhere. Or someone familiar. Maybe the kid had a familiar face...

The boy looked at him blankly with narrowed eyes. Ernest then remembered he had asked a question. He cleared his throat.

“Nope. That was Dr Montgomery. He used to live here,” Ernest said slowly.

“He doesn’t live here anymore?” the boy asked looking dejected and confused. He looked in thought for a second.

“Do you live here?” he then asked.

“Nope,” Ernest replied again.

“Does anyone live here?” the boy tried again.

“Not anymore," Technically Ernest didn't know but he was quite sure nobody did. Montgomery died recently.

“Then… Why-?” The boy looked confused.

"How did you come to this place?" Ernest asked slowly.

The boy studies Ernest for a second. “I'm not going to tell a stranger. I'm not dumb."

“Let me guess. There was a fire and your mum or dad shoved you into a secret passageway you didn't know and you ended up here." Ernest didn't add his thoughts that, unless the parents were an exception, the kid  should already know about VFD. if he didn't then either his parents were taking a long time to enter them or they didn't want them involved.

The boy's eyes widened comically and he looked at Ernest in awe.

"Does that happen often?" The boy asked tilting his head. Ernest resisted a snigger.

"Well, fires happen often. Shoving the children into tunnels is more on the lines of sometimes," Ernest said. Then he remembers that, although it didn't seem it, the boy could be lying.

Then Ernest remembered that he was talking to a boy who may find this as very new. Super new. And Ernest had been extremely blunt. He rubbed his temples. Frank was better at this thing not him. Dewey wasn't particularly good with kids but he could talk to them. And Ernest didn't know a thing about this.

"Is there anybody here?" Ernest asked. The boy shook his head.

"I've been here for a few days and there is nobody here unless they are superb at hiding and are overdoing trying to hide from a teenage," The boy said not giving out his age as Ernest noted.

"You follow me. I'll check for myself," the boy looked at him with a strange and thoughtful expression and shrugged. "Fine by me."

Ernest studied the boy and then ushered him to go forward. The boy complied. But the boy didn't look scared just yet. Suspicious, cautious and anticipating but not scared.

Ernest walked forward and so did the boy. Ernest checked upstairs first. They walked from room to room checking every cupboard, under every bed, everywhere. Ernest didn't leave a spot. He even looked behind every five minutes. Not overdoing it because he was just going to scan through the books for anything worthwhile and get out.

Leaving the kid.

Damn, he couldn't leave the kid. Maybe uis parents were volunteers but he wasn't. He sighed. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just take him.

Right?

After several hours of checking and the boy looking at Ernest as if he was deciding if Ernest was either crazy paranoid or reasonable paranoid, they both finally went to the reptile room and sat down.

Ernest was still wondering about what to do about the boy when the boy asked, "What's your name?"

Ernest looked at the boy and was quiet for a minute. "Ernest," he finally said, "Ernest Denouement." The boy's eyes widened and then he looked away trying to think about something.

"Denouement... I've heard that name..." He looked tryin to figure it out.

"It means 'second to last'," Ernest clarified. The boy shook his head.

"No... I've heard it somewhere else... But I'm not sure. It could be from my parents' library-" the boy's eyes widened and he looked sad for a second before shaking it off and again thinking about where he heard Ernest's surename.

"Maybe you could tell your name," Ernest suggested wondering if the boy would.

"Quigley. Quigley Quagmire," the boy took out his hand from his pocket. Ernest looked at it and wondered if he should humour the boy or not. He finally decided he might as well.

Quagmire. It made sense. The Quagmire family had perished in a fire recently apart from two siblings and their other had died. Seems like the other didn't die.

Wait Quagmire. Quagmire like Monika Quagmire. Like Monika Quagmire who was his cousin. Not that he was close to his cousin. She may have come to their fifth birthday, yes he could remember his mother's brother just the slightest bit. And once he was taken in then he heard her name a few times but it didn't matter too much to him. Blood is thicker than water they say but Ernest knew that when a part of VFD that water is mixed with lemon juice, soda, alcohol, milk, honey and blood and everything else and topped with pieces of vegetables and other things and then turns out thicker than blood. But you'd have to get past the smoke from the burned pieces of vegetables and other things to look at the disgusting bowl that was once water, clean and pure, and now was everything but.

So the point was that Monika Quagmire was his cousin but in the end he couldn't remember even where she was destroying and furious like the fire which was caused by everyone or cool and collected like the water which failed to save despite it's efforts. Or a mix of both. Or something different.

"You probably aren't going answer my questions, but did you know my parents?" Ernest hesitated. Well, he was ninety-five percent sure that the boy- Quigley- was an innocent, unknowing kid but anything was possible. So he thought about the question before answering. It couldn't hurt to tell the truth in this case. He had checked the kid for anything suspicious. He only had a Swiss army knife and Ernest confiscated it. And what could it hurt to tell him the truth? He may already know it if he was a volunteer.

"Know of them, yes. Know them because they weren't far, yes. Know them personally, yes and no," Ernest said. Quigley looked at him with confused green eyes.

"Your mother was my cousin but I didn't know your father well," Ernest said slowly and Quigley's eyes widened.

"So that's where I must have seen your name! On our family tree! I'm not usually interested in History but I was bored and ended up getting up a foot and then got bored of the names since there was no information," Quigley rambled on about before continuing his questioning.

"Did you know my mum closely?" Quigley asked calmly and curiously. Ernest knew that his emotions must be quiet turbulent but he seemed to have them under control. Ernest found that impressive.

"Well we aren't the closest of cousins but I did go to her wedding," Ernest said.

That was true. Ernest did see her wedding. For a while. It was mostly because he heard about it and Frank was going since Frank and Monika had a few conversations here and there. And Ernest wanted to get a glimpse of Frank as someone unprofessional. They may work in the same hotel and see each other morning and night but in the end they weren't friends. They didn't talk to each other, they didn't smile at each other, they didn't nod at each other, they had nothing to do with each other. And although Frank and Dewey didn't hang out with each other or have long pointless conversations with each other they do sometimes talk to each other, they do smile sometimes at each other, they do sometimes nod at each other, they do have a tiny bit to do with each other. And Frank was still mad at Ernest. And Dewey couldn't face Ernest.

It was strange how Ernest found himself still caring about his brothers. Especially since they were separated at age five and taken far away until age thirteen. Before their second first meeting they could only remember each other's names. And a few conversations they had. It was quite lonely. There were the other kids who Ernest talked to. He remembered them and the siblings' second first meeting and-

But Ernest didn't want to think too much about it right now. A voice startled him.

"Oh no... I forgot!" Quigley suddenly got up. Ernest looked up feeling confused. What did he mean?

"Listen, Mr Denouement. I think that you are really interesting and I'd love to talk. But my first priority is getting to my siblings. They think I'm dead and I'm sure they'd rather I was alive. I'll have to go."

More problems. Why wasn't life simple? Ernest shook his head.

"I can't let you. Look I'll try to see if I can get you in contact with your siblings somehow but it's dangerous and I can't just let a kid be alone-"

"What about my siblings?!" He demanded standing up angrily, "Can't you just drop me or take my siblings in? You're a relative, right?"

"I told you, I'll get you in contact with them," Ernest had an idea, "Everyone thinks you're dead so they'll not care about you. But you're siblings are very much alive in everyone's eyes. By showing yourself as alive would only end up you being in the same boat without anything."  
   
“Wait, what? Why? But-!” Quigley’s eyes widened and he tried to ask him why. Ernest sighed. He would have to break the news to this kid.  
   
“It’s dangerous. Okay I’ll tell you the whole story. I’m a part of a organization called VFD. Your parents were a part of it too.”  
   
“What does VFD stand for?” Ernest sighed. This will take long...

He knew he didn't have to do this. This wasn't even a part of his mission. And there were other options more easy. On one hand Ernest was a man who could easily overpower him. But Ernest didn't want to do that. But if Quigley was left here then another member could find him. And if Ernest left him at the school he could rejoin his siblings. And that sounded like a good plan to Ernest.

“VFD stands for a lot of things but it's an organization and a code for the organization. A lot of people lost their parents due to the schism. But then one day the organization had a fight and split into two. There was so much fighting. Volunteers turning their back to other volunteers. Fights, struggles, problems, disagreements. And fires. Especially fires. The first side says that it's noble and takes out fires. But they don't help anyone. The Baudelaires are children who also lost their home recently. They were captured by a man named Count Olaf. But no one helped them. The herpetologist here died recently and had the Baudelaires in their care. The children had to rescue themselves. No one came to even check," Ernest told Quigley.

Quigley was processing the information and then looked up.

"So there's a side that says it's good but actually is bad. And my parents' were also a part of this VFD. They were always going to missions and leaving us alone but they were helping people," Quigley looked up at Ernest. Now Ernest was lost. He didn't know what his parents did. He barely knew anything about the kid's parents except his mother was his cousin and was named Monika Quagmire. But when you've got an innocent kid who's world could come crumbling down then...

Ernest didn't know what to do. So he nodded and hoped the boy wouldn't see through him. It wasn't a lie per say since Ernest wasn't hiding anything except his lack of information about the kid's parents.

Ernest then checked his watch and swore under his breath. He had to quickly check the books and get going and... he was going to take Quigley with him.

The thing was... Ernest was weak. He remembered himself at that age. He was taken by a a man would was terrifying and even some of the greatest villains from both sides feared him. No one dared speak his name until this day, only referring to him as '* _him~_ *' when people knew what they were talking about or as 'the man with a beard but no hair' and they meant that in the most fearful way. Apparently Ernest was important due to him being related to the owner's of Hotel Denouement. And they needed someone from their side to be the owner or one of the owners. So that's why such a significant member was the one to pick him up.

If the Quagmires seniors wanted to shield their children from VFD then they did a good job of it but now, unless they go to a different country and even that wasn't a foolproof plan, they were going to get in. And maybe it was against their wishes that Quigley was taken by the opposing but Ernest wouldn't hurt Quigley unlike the many people who would. And so Ernest would try to take Quigley in.

He was surprised take Quigley didn't ask what side his parents were on but he could live with that. But he wondered why Quigley didn't ask.

"Listen Quigley. I'll send a telegram to your siblings when you want but for now I have an important job. I need to check the books in case there is anything important or useful-"

"Can I help?!" Quigley shot up and asked eagerly and Ernest's eye twitch. Seriously? It took most kids at least a few days to get their thoughts sorted out. But Ernest didn't judge.

"Um... Sure...?" Ernest said, unsure. He wasn't professional. He was usually in his hotel where if he messed up then they didn't know if it was him or Frank. He wasn't sent on missions. And he wasn't a mentor. Ernest's mentor took care of him until age twelve and he was out most of the time. So Ernest didn't know much about mentoring. He had some acquaintances but Quigley wasn't an acquaintance.

So Ernest and Quigley went to the library where there were a bunch of books. Ernest took a thick volume out. The Reptiles of Africa. Quigley groaned.

"Do we have to read them all?" He asked looking distastefully at the books.

"Just scan through them and take notes about anything important," Ernest said while Quigley sighed.

"Can't we just take the books?" He asked.

Ernest paused and looked at Quigley who shrugged.

"I mean, the herpetologist is dead. He has no heir. No one bothered taking the books away. Only people from any side of VFD would be after the books in search for secrets. In fact... shouldn't you take the books so they don't fall into the wrong hands?" Quigley suggested and sat upon the table.

Ernest ignored this and opened up a book.

“Why are you here? Do you have a boss who sent you? Did he send you specifically? Do people often find kids on their missions? What age can you be a member? Can I be a member?” Ernest took a deep breath.  
   
“To be honest, kids your age get apprenticeships and can be members of the VFD but stop-”  
   
“Can I have an apprenticeship? I’ll help!” Ernest swore under his breath. Yes, he planned to take the kid with him and that would put him responsible for him which could lead to Quigley being his apprentice but it was one thing to think about and another thing to say it. And a whole other mountain to do it.  
   
“Okay, kid. You can be my apprentice," Ernest said at last and Quigley smiled brightly.  
   
“Hey, Mr Denouement? But why the passageways?”  
   
“Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? The passageways were built by members of the organization," Ernest said. "In the case of an emergency, they could escape to a safe place. Well until the schism."

“Hey, Ernest? But what’s a ‘scsim’?” Quigley struggled to say the word.

“Schism,” Ernest corrected.

“Yeah that. And how did it start? And why was-”

“Listen, Quigley. I would love to explain the whole thing to you but I don’t have much time. I’m here for a mission.”

"Can I keep any books I like? I was looking at the books for anything Geography and I found these," Quigley said and opened his bag and took out seven books. "An atlas of the world... An atlas of the entire state.. 1001 Ecosystems... Remarkable Phenomenon of the Mortmain Mountain... 30 Conspiracy Theories... And... The secrets of some very fiery disasters..."

Ernest looked at the kid.

"It's not stealing if it doesn't belong to anybody right? I mean it's one thing to pick up books belonging to someone alive and it's another thing to pick up books belonging to someone dead without no heir to take over."

Ernest went back to his studying.

"I found a photograph in one of the books," Quigley then said and Ernest sighed.

"Do you know how to cook, Quigley?" Quigley nodded.

"Find what ever you can from the kitchen and make something," Ernest then instructed. Quigley nodded and went to the kitchen.

Ernest then took a peek at the picture. It was of three siblings waiting at a dock of some lake. The oldest looked slightly older than Quigley and the second was maybe slightly younger. The third looked as if only half a year at most. The oldest was wearing a nice purple coat and had a ribbon tied up in her hair. The second had glasses which made him look intelligent and the youngest had extremely sharp teeth that Ernest would not want to be bitten by.

He looked back at the books.  
___________________________________________________________  
Quigley was bored. Bored. Extremely bored. Absolutely, unquestionably, unequivocally, positively, tremendously, immensely, extremely, infinitely bored. See he was acting like his siblings. Using adjectives like Izzie and exaggerating like Duncan…

He was still bored.

He already read at atlas a hundred times over. It had been nearly two days since Ernest came. He was always nice to Quigley but he was invested in his job. He was still in the library. Quigley would have died from an over dose of reading.

Quigley wanted to ask Ernest more but Ernest was busy which was annoying to Quigley. But he seemed reasonable and well-read which were good signs. So Quigley didn’t push. And he knew his mum and was on the same side as her.

As it was told before, Quigley was extremely bored so he decided to do his old hobby. He took out The Remarkable Phenomenon of the Mortmain Mountains since he wanted to get back into cartography which was the love of his life, his passion and his soul… mate? Soul… study? Soul…passion? Soul-passion.

Quigley took out his pencils, erasers, ruler, pens, whatever and started drawing the map. Well, it wasn’t his but he was allowed to use it.

And was Quigley happy. He enjoyed himself and felt like a huge weight was taken off by returning to something normal and beloved.

He spent a long time on it, correcting, drawing, labelling and he fell asleep by the time it was half-finished. He wanted it to be prefect. The best map he had ever made.

The map had seemed to be coming on quite good but Quigley didn’t starting celebrating yet. He wasn’t dome. Isadora had even come up with a poem about situations like this one.

 

“Celebrate when you're half-done/And the finish won't be half as fun,” Quigley sang quietly with a small smile. He missed his siblings terribly so but he was relieved they were safe. Maybe one day Isadora’s poems could come in handy and really so. And Duncan could write reports that would help a lot. Or they would not be VFD related but like they could become famous like Robert Frost or Woodward and Bernstein.

 

Quigley read the book as well and was it interesting. He learnt about the Valley of the Four Drafts, Vernacularly Fastened Door, Volunteer Feline Detectives and more.

 

“VFD… all must be codes. And what’s this paragraph about…? ‘To open the Vernacularly Fastened Door, you must enter three codes’. One is the Latin name for the Volunteer Feline Detectives. The second is-'"

 

There was a knock at the door so Quigley closed the book and put it under his pillow. “Come in!"

Ernest opened the door with a panicked expression. Quigley felt worried now.

“There's no time to explain. There's a fire and we need to get out now!" Quigley shot up and spotted his backpack. It had a box of Verdant Flammable Devices. He had read about them. It let off a green smoke that signalled to other volunteers. He also had also had a compass, some pens and pencils, a flashlight, a telescope, a pocket watch, some food and water, matches and a lot of other stuff. Quigley also had brought the atlas and some books from his room and put it inside the bag. He always kept this commonplace book in his pocket.

He quickly took it and went up to Ernest. Quigley then smelt something that he realized was-

“Smoke…” Quigley’s eyes widened and his breath started becoming irregular. The last time he smelt smoke it was from the fire that killed his parents.

"Yes. That's why we need to run," Ernest said and Quigley and him ran.

Quigley then remembered that they should go to the Reptile Room. That was the way he could reach the secret door if not anything else.

"Mr Denouement! We should go to the secret passageway from which I came from!" Quigley said as black clouds of smoke were seen. He pulled Ernest's hand to there.

Luckily, there was no one in sight. But unluckily, when he opened the door of the Reptile Room, Quigley saw that someone had thrown a torch through the glass of the ceiling, starting a fire in the library. Within minutes, the entire house was in flames.

And during those few minutes Quigley was not, not meaning not, just standing around goggling at the scene in front of him. He ran to the secret door that led to the secret passageway with Ernest right behind him and shut the door as hard as he could out of haste. He felt safe there. His mother saw it as safe when she told him to go through it. And people used it when they were in trouble to get to a safe place. But… this lead to his old mansion which was not a safe place anymore. Not because it was unsafe but because what was only left was ruins.

He and Ernest sat down and Quigley handed Ernest a carrot. Ernest took it and sighed.

"Two fires in the same week, huh?" Ernest asked. Quigley nodded slowly although Ernest couldn't see him. He took a carrot himself and munched on it.

"Did you get any information?" Quigley asked.

"Not much and nothing important. Looked for books who had titles that could be codes but there weren't many of other and some of them were coincidentally using the code."

Quigley wonders if maybe it wasn't a coincidence and the author wanted to trick the reader to waste time on them but he didn't say it.

"Well... Now we have to go to the hotel... I'll have to explain to them about you."

"What are we travelling by?" Quigley asked.

"Train. We'll leave by nightfall."

Quigley shrugged. "Sure."  
___________________________________________________________  
And by nightfall they did leave. Slowly they went to other the side of the tunnel ad left. It was dark so Ernest couldn't properly see the expression on Quigley's face as they got up through the ashes which stuck onto their clothing. But he seemed suspiciously fine so they found a train station where Ernest asked for two tickets. They got onto the train and were on it for a while and then finally reached the street which would lead to the hotel.

Ernest noticed that Quigley was looking out of the window and observing everything. He was wearing a Newsie cap which he found on the floor of Montgomery's mansion and decided to keep. Quigley was quiet usually but did always put his two dollars. When he found the hat, he told Ernest that his brother, Duncan, was a journalist.

They finally reached the Hotel by daytime. Quigley looked at it.

"Is this your Hotel?" He asked curiously.

"More or less... My brother and I are it's managers. To say owners wouldn't be quite right. No one particularly owns the hotel. Follow me and don't make eye contact with anyone," Ernest said quietly. He wondered if Frank noticed his absence. Probably did since he had to do twice the work. Dewey only came out from time on time anyway.

And sure enough as soon as Ernest came in, he saw Frank chatting to the lady on the reception desk. As soon as Ernest went in, all eyes were upon him. He ignored them and walked up to the lady on the reception desk. He glanced for a second at Frank and identical grey eyes met each other for a split second before snapping away. He turned back to the woman.

"May I have the key to room number 384?" Ernest asked the woman. She nodded and looked for it. She handed it to him as soon as she found it.

Ernet ushered Quigley to follow him to room 384. Quigley looked very tempted to look at all the people and ask questions like if their volunteers or from Ernest's side or just normal people and about what rooms there are and stuff like that but he thankfully kept quiet and let Ernest do the talking.

"Hotel Denouement is organised by the Dewey Decimal System," Ernest explained and thought about how the inside joke never got old. "That's the same way books are organized in many libraries. For instance, if you wanted to find a book on, you would begin in the section of the library marked 300, which contains books on social sciences. Similarly, the third story of this hotel is reserved for our guests who talk about science in social gatherings. Understand?"

"Yes... But isn't there no catalog?" Quigley asked and Ernest sighed. How he hated that question. They walked into the elevator and Ernest pressed the button for floor three.

"You can just ring a bell which would call up a concierge who would be happy to help you find whatever place you want to go to."

"Do they know the entire Dewey Decimal System by heart?" Quigley asked. Ernest shook his head.

"But they manage," he then said. They finally reached the room and Ernest gave Quigley the key.

"You should get some sleep, Quigley," Ernest said.

Quigley paused for a second and then smiled softly.

'Thank you, Mr Denouement," he said sincerely, "I really appreciate what you've done for me!"

Ernest blinked and feel his cheeks heat slightly. He wasn't used to compliments or anything like this.

"Call me Ernest," he finally said.

Quigley grinned, "Good night, Ernest!"

Ernest smirked softly, "Night Quigley."

And with that they parted.


End file.
